


Deliberation

by roselew



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 16:11:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3535775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roselew/pseuds/roselew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spy found himself…staring. Across the room, across the battlefield, turning to look whenever he saw the bright dot of colour against a nearby wall, indicating that the Sniper’s sights were set nearby. He was certain, for a while, that the other man hadn’t noticed his mistakes, but recently…he had begun to stare back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deliberation

**Author's Note:**

> I got really sick towards the end of this, so if the quality declines then I apologise. 
> 
> This was mostly practice for my characterisation. I'm still working on it, but I think I did okay. 
> 
> If you see any mistakes or places I could improve, please let me know!

It had been building for a while. Deliberately, of course; Spy had carefully planned the whole thing. However, when things finally reached boiling point, when all of his carefully laid plans came to fruition, it had been something of a surprise.

 

The Sniper was a mystery to him. Outwardly he was friendly, if a little quiet, and not without a sense of humour, but there were parts of him the Spy could not decipher. He felt that there had to be something else, something other than what the man presented to the rest of the team. He projected normalcy enough that one might call him the least mysterious among them, but it was the Spy’s job to know things, to know people, and if there was one man he could not understand, it was Sniper.

 

It was a thoroughly irritating situation to be in. The bushman shouldn’t really be all that deserving of the Spy’s attention - what could he possibly discover about him that would be all that interesting? The man lived in a van, for god’s sake. Despite his reasoning, however, the Spy found himself...staring. Across the room, across the battlefield, turning to look whenever he saw the bright dot of colour against a nearby wall, indicating that the Sniper’s sights were set nearby. He was certain, for a while, that the other man hadn’t noticed his mistakes, but recently...he had begun to stare back.

 

He was determined to get under the Sniper’s skin, by whatever means necessary, and if that meant making his interest painfully clear, then so be it. He would meet the Sniper’s gaze whenever it turned to him, maybe raise a brow, maybe offer him a sly smile. It didn’t seem to change much, except sometimes the Sniper’s gaze would drop immediately, his attention fixed elsewhere for the remainder of the time that he was in the Spy’s company.

 

Spy was certain that at some point, the Sniper would give something away. That if he watched closely enough, something would become clear that hadn’t before. That’s why it wasn’t much of a surprise when something finally happened.

 

He’d crossed the Sniper’s path as he had been leaving base, and Sniper had paused, cocked his head towards the outdoors like he was inviting the Spy along with him. They were staying nearby the sawmill, trying to keep the enemy team away from the control point that they’d held for the last few hours, and the perpetual bad weather that afflicted the area was still going strong. Even with ceasefire in full effect, there was no silence; rain drizzled down continuously, thunder rumbled lowly, as if from far away. The Spy’s gaze had followed the Sniper’s gesture, towards the rain and damp earth, and he didn’t bother to suppress his grimace. If only the Sniper had chosen another time to finally yield to Spy’s efforts.

 

He’d sighed dejectedly, and stepped out into the rain.

 

It was warm, at least; but humid in a fairly unpleasant way. The Spy shivered as rain-water trickled down the back of his neck, and glared at the Sniper’s back as he followed him away from base. They passed the Sniper’s van, which was not a surprise; he did not suppose the Sniper would willingly invite him into his personal living space.

 

The base was surrounded by thick forests, stretching acres in each direction and impossible to navigate unless you were familiar with them, and this was where the Sniper led him, past the shrubby tree line and between the thick branches. His choice of destination was odd; if the Sniper was planning on murdering him, he really didn’t have to go through all of this trouble. Then, he supposed, if the Sniper wanted to speak with him, he wouldn’t want to do it standing in the downpour - the trees were thick enough that they stopped most of the rain from reaching the ground.

 

It was growing dark, and under the canopy of trees the light was pine-green, giving everything a strange glow. The Spy took a moment to take in his surroundings - they were far enough into the woods that he could barely see their base through the most distant branches. He could feel the Sniper’s gaze even when he couldn’t see it, and turned his eyes back to Sniper, unsettled by the sensation.

 

Sniper did not speak, but he moved closer into Spy’s space until he was forced to take a step back, and another, until the Spy’s back hit something solid, and he realised he’d allowed himself to be cornered. The tree bark was rough and uneven, digging into his shoulders and Spy’s eyes cast about for an escape. He felt like an animal, and the indignity of it made his blood boil. He jerked his chin up, trying to retain whatever dignity he had remaining, and curled his gloved hands into fists so fiercely that the leather creaked.

 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He exclaimed, holding the Sniper’s gaze even as he closed in on him.

 

“I could ask you the same thing.” Was the only response, and Spy glared, uncomprehending.

 

“I don’t-”

 

“Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean.” The Sniper said, irate, lip curling. “For weeks you’ve been starin’ after me. What d’you want?” He did not allow Spy time to respond. “Cause it’s crystal clear to me, even if you’re too much of a fuckin’ coward to say it.”

 

Spy resisted the juvenile urge to shove the front of the Sniper’s stupid hat, just to see it topple off of the back of his head. The man was being foolish - Spy’s behavior hardly warranted a response like this. He rolled his eyes and began to speak, but Sniper, with a fair degree of annoyance, interrupted.

 

“Just shut up.” He growled, and before Spy could even think to retaliate, Sniper was kissing him. If it could even be called that; it was more a brutal press of lips against his own. Spy’s hands flew to Sniper’s shoulders in shock, and he suddenly felt drained, realisation sending a vague chill through him.

 

It seemed he had made a critical error.

 

Looking back, he could imagine how his intentions could be misunderstood. Apparently his newfound interest in Sniper had woken some latent desire in the bushman, and Spy had been too focused on his own goals to notice. It was quite the unfortunate misunderstanding, but Sniper’s hands were curled into the fabric of his mask, gripping him tightly and laving his tongue across Spy’s lips, and Spy gave a mental shrug.

 

Well, worse misunderstandings had been made. This was surely not the most dreadful outcome for his efforts, and the soft, surprised noise Sniper made when Spy allowed his lips to part was quite a reward in itself. Spy was nothing if not adaptable, and he found he could accommodate this sudden turn of events rather well. He did not often turn down offers such as these, as rarely as they came about.

 

The Sniper kissed like he was starved for it, with scraping teeth and a searching tongue, pressing his thumbs to the Spy’s cheekbones and while it was far from the best kiss Spy had ever received, he found himself reciprocating nonetheless, with far more ferocity than he’d like to admit. He smoothed his palms over the Sniper’s shoulders, feeling the defined ridge of his collarbones beneath the heels of his hands, and allowed himself to breathe clearly when Sniper broke away from his lips. He rubbed his cheek against the Spy’s, taking in the odd sensation of stubble against cotton, trailing his lips feather-light along the Spy’s jaw. Spy sighed, searching for the Sniper’s lips with his own. As lovely as the Sniper’s actions were, his mask dulled most of the tactile sensation. He would much rather have Sniper’s attention where he could feel it.

 

Sniper apparently disagreed; not allowing more than the barest touch, smirking at the Spy’s frustrated murmur against the corner of his mouth. He drew back, slipped his palms down Spy’s throat, resting them in the bend between neck and shoulder, and pushed. Not hard, just enough to convey his point. Spy stared at him. Did he really expect him to get to his knees or - god forbid, lay down in the mud and rain? As uncomfortable as the tree was, digging into his spine and shoulders, Spy really didn’t see the appeal of dirtying himself just so Sniper could get his way. He certainly wasn’t so desperate to be kissed that he would yield himself to something so disgusting in exchange.

 

“Go on.” Sniper said, dropping his hands from Spy’s shoulders, running them idly down his sides. “It’ll be worth it. Promise.”

 

Spy rolled his eyes. He really wasn’t certain how much he could trust Sniper just by his word.

 

“Somehow I doubt it.” He shifted, preparing to extricate himself from between Sniper and the tree. “As tempting an offer as it is, I don’t -”

 

Spy froze. Sniper’s hand had slipped from his side, and Spy watched it cresting the ridge of his hip and trailing along the line between thigh and groin. His cock gave an interested twitch, Sniper’s fingers drifting not-quite close enough, and Spy clenched his jaw. Kissing was one thing; this was quite another, more tempting option. He swallowed, mouth dry, gaze rising to meet the Sniper’s once again.

 

“What exactly are you proposing?” He found himself asking, fingers tightening at the Sniper’s shoulders. Sniper hummed, as if considering his options, trailing his thumb along the half-hard line of Spy’s dick through his trousers, and Spy quivered.

 

“Was wantin’ to pin you down and suck you off,” He began, voice low. “But, christ, if you’re too scared of a bit of mud…”

 

He was goading him, he knew it. Trying to force a reaction, and had Spy been slightly less distracted by the Sniper’s hand, it may not have worked. A soft sound grew in the back of his throat, lips parting as his eyes dropped to the gentle back-and-forth of the Sniper’s fingers, still not a substantial enough touch to be fully felt through the fabric.

 

He sank to his knees with a surprising lack of shame, balling his fists on his thighs and wincing at the cold wetness soaking into his clothes. He hated the Sniper’s answering look; smug and arrogant, hated the way he smiled as he followed Spy to the floor, hated the twinging heat in his own gut, arousal building as the Sniper leant over him, palms finding Spy’s knees, urging him to lay flat.

 

“Stretch out, yeah? Just like that.”

 

Spy shifted down, flat to the sodden earth and he shuddered, glaring up at the Sniper as he planted a knee either side of his calves. He kept his palms carefully clear of the dirt, gripping at his own thighs instead, wondering where exactly he went wrong to end up in this situation; rainwater dripping in his eyes, soaked to the skin in filth.

 

Sniper sat back on his haunches, reaching out wordlessly to swipe a drop of water from the bridge of Spy’s nose. From his position Spy could see the Sniper’s erection; an obscene shape against his trousers, and the sight sent a strange shiver through him, made him want to reach out and touch. The Sniper’s thumb trailed over his cheekbone, glancing over the Spy’s lips and it was automatic to dart his tongue out as it passed, smirking at the Sniper’s sharp inhale. Sniper’s grip was suddenly fierce on his jaw, thumb pressing between his parted lips for a moment before he lunged, attacking the Spy’s mouth with a groan, bracing himself on the slick ground beside Spy’s head.

 

Apparently any decorum the Sniper may have possessed had been lost, pressing the length of his body to the Spy’s, from groin to chest. Spy whined into Sniper’s mouth, body rolling up against the weight of the marksman’s and that was satisfying; sending a warm throb of pleasure through him so he did it again, and again until the Sniper broke the kiss with a grunt, feeling blindly down Spy’s body to his hip, pressing down to still him.

 

“Bleedin’ hell, Spook.”

 

Spy let his head fall back to the floor, panting. He could feel a blush searing high on his cheeks, pulse loud in his ears, and knew how much of a mess he must look. The Sniper’s fingers dug into his hip hard enough to sting, and the Spy met his eyes, dark and heavy-lidded behind his tinted glasses. Sniper sat back, smoothing his hands over Spy’s hips, pausing with his fingers feeling out his waistband. Spy twitched towards his hands, humming softly when Sniper’s fingers pulled his shirt from his trousers, thumbing open the button and revealing bare skin, a faint trail of hair that disappeared beneath his undershorts. Sniper stroked downwards with his thumb, from navel to the strained zipper, and was light-fingered when he drew it down, denying Spy the touch he desired.

 

Spy took in a breath, forcefully stilling his body, aching to lurch up into Sniper’s hands.

 

“I seem to remember you making me a promise.” He breathed, fingers twitching in the damp earth, and Sniper’s lips quirked, amused, tongue darting out to wet them.

 

“Did I?” He asked, starting to drag Spy’s undershorts slowly over his hips, revealing skin to the cool air. “S’pose I’d better get on with it then, eh?”

 

He did not, as he said, ‘get on with it’. He was slow, his gentle fingertips and even breaths making Spy want to tear his hair out in frustration, to reach out a drag Sniper’s mouth down where he wanted it. He curled his hands into fists, dragging up grass and sodden leaves, willing himself to still. He would not allow himself to be bested by Sniper’s efforts to derail him. He would not.

 

The air was a cold shock against his heated flesh when Sniper finally exposed Spy’s cock, but no worse than the chill of of his rain-soaked suit. Sniper cast a furtive glance towards the Spy’s face, trailing fingertips through the soft hair at Spy’s thighs and higher, running both thumbs up the length of his cock, and the soft, high sound Spy produced made him smile as he dragged them back down.

 

Spy could not muster the energy to glare as the Sniper touched him with exploratory fingers, as he rubbed a thumb gently over the head, making Spy jerk, making his breath catch and shake. He wanted so badly to be able to arch up into a tight fist or a warm mouth, to come so hard he couldn’t breathe. These achingly careful touches were unbearable, focusing all of his senses down to those fingers, those hands, the thighs that pressed either side of his knees. His hands trembled.

 

Sniper was watching him, eyes sharp and intent, and Spy could feel each movement with painful clarity as he curled his fingers, taking his cock in-hand fully, the first significant contact he’d allowed since this began. Spy’s cry was quickly caught, choked back even as he jolted, hips working against Sniper’s palm. He was sensitive, nerves spread thin and fragile after being teased for so long, and even Sniper’s warm fingers spread against his quivering stomach made him whimper, cracking open his eyes to look at him.

 

“Easy, now,” Sniper said, lowly. “There you go.”

 

He slid his hand from root to tip, which somewhat dulled the venom in Spy’s voice when he responded.

 

“Shut up.” Was all he could manage, spat half-heartedly in the bushman’s direction, even as he reached for something to hold on to; finding Sniper’s knees and digging his fingers into the other man’s pantlegs. He was not some fragile creature in need of comfort. He could handle himself perfectly well. The Sniper cocked his head, brows raised, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

 

“Well, if you insist.” He said, and dropped down, still gripping the Spy’s cock as he worked his lips and tongue into the crease between body and limb, catching the Spy’s hip with his teeth, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of his thigh. Spy sighed out a moan, pressing upwards against the Sniper’s mouth, and the first, long lick the from hilt to tip of his cock made him shout and writhe, pleasure burning hotly in his belly.

 

Sniper gave a soft murmur, the pointed tip of his tongue flickering at the tip, fingers squeezing at the base. He pulled away for only a moment, breathing hotly against Spy’s flesh.

 

“Give us a shout before you come, eh?” He said, leisurely stroking Spy’s cock, slick with saliva, and the Spy bucked, and nodded.

 

“Of course.” Spy breathed, and watched as the Sniper smiled, touched him with his lips for the barest moment before taking his cock into his mouth and sinking down, surrounding him in heat so unbearable compared to the cold air that the Spy swore, raking his fingernails against the Sniper’s knees, toes curling within his shoes.

 

It had been a regrettably long time since Spy had last experienced this - longer still since he’d been able to relax into it. Even with the cold and the rain, and the profound chance that anybody could have followed them out here from base, the Spy found himself getting lost in the slick heat. He was content to tip his head back, to close his eyes and grip tight with his fingers, to center his entire existence down to the Sniper’s mouth and hands. He could hear himself - high, wanting noises in his throat that the Sniper answered with his own grunts and hums that vibrated around his cock, and the hand that had been on the Spy’s belly disappeared.

 

Spy cracked open his eyes, watching the Sniper’s furrowed brows, the hand that had disappeared to free the Sniper’s cock from his jeans. The Spy sucked in a gasp as the Sniper stroked himself, mouth going lax and still around the Spy’s cock. The thought that the Sniper had been hard the whole time, giving in to his own touch simply because he was too desperate not to was too much for the Spy to take in. He closed his eyes tightly, turning his face blindly into the dirt, keening in the back of his throat as he tried to calm himself, to hold back his orgasm just a while longer. He ached, deep in his belly and his cock, pulse rapid and loud in his ears. The Sniper was grunting lowly with each breath, tongue moving slowly against the Spy, distracted as he was by his own pleasure, and the Spy reached for him, hand grasping for the Sniper’s forearm.

 

Spy dug in his fingernails, mouth open and eyes shut, brows pinched. He didn’t want to come, not yet. If he could just hold on a while longer, if the Sniper kept his attentions light and bearable then he could stop himself. But he was so close, so painfully close and he ached so horribly and as he twisted frantically to dislodge the Sniper, breaths emerging as panicked gasps the Sniper moaned, long and loud against his cock and sucked him with renewed strength and the Spy cried out and sobbed and came, trembling. The Sniper choked, reeling back with a sound of shock and the Spy opened his eyes in time to see him reach down, grabbing a fistful of dirt and shoving it at the Spy’s face.

 

“I told you to warn me, you bastard.” He growled, sitting back on his heels and Spy gasped and laughed, still coming, cock twitching against his belly, face smeared with mud. He had a feeling he would find the situation distinctly less amusing in an hour’s time, but right now, with his mind floating in the haze of orgasm, he didn’t really have the strength to be angry.

 

“My apologies.” He said once he had calmed, turning his head languidly to look down at the Sniper, who had resumed stroking himself, one hand gripping the Spy’s thigh. The Spy’s mistake must not have been much of an interruption, as before long the Sniper shuddered and groaned,

coming over Spy’s hip and the damp fabric of his shirt, fingers digging in and trembling against his thigh. The Sniper braced himself against Spy’s waist, taking a moment to relax, and when he opened his eyes and took in the Spy’s appearance, he snorted out a laugh.

 

“What?” The Spy asked, voice a little sharp.

 

“You look bloody ridiculous, mate.” Sniper chuckled, and the Spy winced. If he looked as much of a mess as he felt, then he couldn’t even argue with that.

 

“Yes, well; would you mind letting me up? I would prefer to make it back before nightfall.”

 

Sniper tutted, but did as he was asked, climbing off of the Spy’s legs and standing, stretching his arms and examining the mud on his elbows. Spy hauled himself upright, tucking himself carefully back inside his trousers. What he could see of his back was covered in mud, from neck to ankles, his face similarly streaked with dirt. There was come soaking into his clothes and he cringed, patting his pockets to find a cigarette.

 

“Bet you’re glad you can cloak your way back to base.” Sniper said, suddenly, voice somewhat sly. “Wouldn’t want everyone seein’ the state you’re in.”

 

The Spy pulled his cigarette case from his pocket, lighting it with practiced ease.

 

“Yes, quite.” He said, absently, but froze as he moved to return his cigarettes to his pocket. There was a distinct lack of glinting metal at his wrist. The familiar shine of his cloaking device was missing.

 

He’d left his cloak back at base.

  
  



End file.
